A glorification of beauty, inspiring poetry, inspiring wars, has been a part of the heritage of the world. The point is beauty has its own language, has its own meaning that touches the core of our heart and renders our intellect momentarily at loss for words. The more robust of us come back with a struggle, a hesitation to trust what we can’t understand and have often despised. At least, thought less of. So why does a quest for beauty and conquest of the beautiful have such a significance? Does it have a meaning that I don’t know about?
Sorry about that. I was still figuring out what I was trying to say so all I managed was to talk about the confusion in mind.
What I wanted to say is this: why is it that it makes us feel good to look at something beautiful ? It does. Except when it threatens us, it makes us sigh. Painters, poets, photographers wanting to capture one thing in so many different ways. And the geography of artists has a direct line to beauty: in people, in places. Day to day things of beauty comfort us: a piece of handwriting, a shade of color; tastes may differ but everyone finds something or the other beautiful and we need that feeling to stick around.